Recently while driving from Gainesville, Georgia, to Toccoa, Georgia , I noticed this old fireplace standing not too far off a newly paved highway. No doubt it had once warmed a family who gathered around it at night never dreaming the remains of their old homestead would be bordered by such a busy road. If it could speak, wonder what it would say? More than likely, it would tell of laughter and love and sorrow—of hope regained after harvest and warmth renewed in winter’s embrace.

I came home the other evening and discovered the Cherokee Rose bush in full bloom. Growing up my Mom had these along her fence line in the backyard. Seeing them in the late afternoon sunlight reminded me of simpler, carefree times when neighbors talked to one another over the fence and saying “See you later” really meant something.

This photograph of one of the gardens at Windsor Castle was taken in the May of 2002.

This photograph reminds me of my friend Rebecca, who is always ready to support and help others.

Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor.

Ecclesiastes 4:12

After my friend Peggy Bass went home to be with the Lord, I vowed to never look at common violets the same way. While I had spent time and energy trying to rid my yard of what she called Bird’s Nest Violets, Peggy spent equal the time enjoying each and every single one. “I just love my Bird Nest Violets,” she would say with a decisively honest Southern drawl.

The other day was warm and just right for doing Spring yard work. I pulled the lawn mower out of the tool shed and headed up the walkway to the front yard. But before I started it, I stopped long enough to survey the work before me. The faces of hundreds of violets looked up at me, and suddenly, I knew there would be no yard work done. I rolled the mower back inside the shed and closed the door. Then I went back inside the house and grabbed the camera. “For Peggy,” I thought, “because I just love my Bird’s Nest Violets.”